Of Sin and Virtue
by sphinx81
Summary: Seven times Ezio and Rosa sinned. And seven times Ezio and Rosa were virtuous. A series of drabbles, each 100 words or less. Ezio/Rosa, Assassin's Creed II. COMPLETE.
1. Ingordigia e Carità

**Author's Note: **I should clarify that these don't happen in any sort of chronological order. Hopefully, they make more sense that way.

**Ingordigia (Greed)**

The boy's uncle sent word to Antonio that his precious _nipote_ would soon arrive in _La Serenissima_. In turn, she was to tail their guest. The last thing they needed was for him to become entangled in fisticuffs, drawing the undue attention of the city guard to their cause.

But seeing the pouch of florins hanging at his side was too much temptation. She had her eye on a new book in the market. And books were the one thing she _never_ stole. Better to snatch a bit of coin from this cocky, rich _stronzo_ than to go without, right?

* * *

From the moment she opened her expletive-laden mouth, he wanted all of her. Her unfettered courage. Her stunning dark eyes. Those deft fingers that saw fit to relieve him of his florins at the first opportunity. His insatiable imagination wasted nearly too much time contemplating how they would feel tracing across his skin, committing him to memory with each precise little movement.

Yet she rejected him out of hand.

But desire bred patience. And patience bred its rewards.

She may not have known it yet. But he refused to rest until he took his prize.

Every single part of her.

**Carità (Charity)**

"You're familiar with the whores?"

"_Courtesans_, Ezio."

"Forgive me, _piccola_." When he called her that, how could she not?

"So they trade their bodies for coin?" she shrugged, "I trade my quick fingers for such. Them, us, the mercenaries. Even the troubadours. We're all the same. Yet we watch out for each other. For the rest of _Venezia_ ignores us in her turn."

"Then I shall look after you, _signorina_…all of you." She would protest. But that unyielding gaze in those dark eyes told her otherwise.

She always secretly preferred the chivalrous ones. Not that she'd ever tell him such.

* * *

Silently scrambling over his balcony and leaping down into his quarters, she found him asleep. The bandage around his wrist was new, reeking of the fresh poultices Bianca soaked them in. Clutched in his hands at his chest, the tattered codex of Polo's _Il Milione._

Removing a newly-bound copy from her satchel, she nimbly replaced the old one. He didn't stir.

Grinning, she brushed her lips across his, allowing her hand to linger along his cheek before slipping out of his window, a ghost on the wind.

She couldn't wait to see his face light up at his birthday gift.

* * *

**Translations**

_Nipote_ – Nephew

_La Serenissima_ - the shortened Italian term for the Venetian Republic. Its full title is _La Serenissima Repubblica di Venezia_, which translates to _The Most Serene Republic of Venice. _The Republic lasted for a thousand years, from the late 7th century all the way to 1797, ending with Napoleon's conquest.

_Stronzo_ – F**ker

_Piccola_ – Sweetheart

Polo's _Il Milione_ – Refers to Marco Polo's _The Travels of Marco Polo_, which was also known as _Oriente Poliano_ or _Description of the World, _and_ Le Livre des Merveilles_ or _The Book of Wonders_ in French. It was nicknamed _Il Milione_, or _The Million_. Traditionally, Marco Polo dictated the book to the famous writer Rustichello da Pisa while both were in prison in Genoa from 1298 - 1299.


	2. Pigrizia e Diligenza

**Pigrizia (Sloth)**

At the tavern, she insisted on ordering from the bar herself.

He _always _flashed his coin, sending the wenches scrambling all over themselves to fetch his food. Save a particularly mouthy patron, his _culo_ remained firmly in his seat. The hundredth time it occurred, she rolled her eyes. Naturally, he didn't miss it.

"What?"

"Do you _ever_ do anything yourself?"

"Why bother?" he shrugged. _Caro Dio_, he was _serious._

"_Monello!"_ she muttered.

Admittedly, he bore hardly any other trace of his previous life.

It was mildly disconcerting; now, he fit in almost _too _well with their little band of brigands.

* * *

He never grasped how someone could spend _all day_ sprawled across their bed. Even before he fled _Firenze_, he found rambling about a constant necessity. Otherwise, he'd go mad with boredom.

But she used any excuse to remain there. Eating. Reading. Games of chess or tarot. All undertaken in bed. Outside of her daily thieving, he always knew where to find her.

As her mouth nipped along his collarbone, tracing its eager little path downwards, it suddenly struck him like lightning.

_Madre Dio, voi piccola fighetta!_

Apparently, there was more than one way to burn off all that excess energy.

**Diligenza (Diligence)**

Her thigh took months to fully heal. Yet he climbed through her window as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Soon, she found him perched at the foot of her bed nearly every evening.

Those delicious lemon cakes rolled in honey and hazelnuts certainly didn't hurt. She suspected they were his self-imposed penance for her injury, despite how much she insisted that it occurred through no fault of his own.

He refused to take no for an answer. _Suo bello_ was proving persistent.

If she wasn't careful, she'd lose herself. Then, there'd be no going back.

* * *

Eyes fluttering open, pain mercilessly clawed at every part of him. How he came to be in her bed, he couldn't recall.

"Next time you go hurtling yourself into the canals, please _attempt_ to swim. Oh, and getting nearly stabbed to death beforehand? Rather imprudent!"

"L-Leonardo?"

"Rest, _mio amico._" Cup immediately at his lips, its foul-smelling contents tasted dreadful. "She rushed to my workshop _right_ after it happened_._" Sleeping sprawled on the threadbare chaise shoved against the bed, her hand clutched his. "We've been here all week."

Even smiling hurt like hell. Yet with them there, the pain didn't matter.

* * *

**Translations**

_Culo_ - Ass

_Caro Dio_ – Dear Lord

_Monello!_ – Brat!

_Firenze_ – Florence

_Madre Dio, voi piccola fighetta!_ – Mother above, you little minx! _Fighetta_ is slang for a sexy girl, a hot chick.

_Suo bello/Sua bella_ – Her pretty (one)/His pretty (one)


	3. Lussuria e Castità

**Lussuria (Lust)**

Antonio rarely questioned where she disappeared to every night. For she always returned unharmed.

She was in danger now though, her screams threatening to escape her throat as he dragged his teeth over her flushed, bare breast. He laughed in turn, tongue leisurely trailing along her quivering stomach.

_"Dio Mio!"_

"God cannot deliver you now, _mia bella_," he huskily chuckled. Lips brushing the inside of her thigh, he soon claimed his delightful little pearl.

Her world split into two, her breath coming in short, ecstatic gasps. Yet he fervently took his treasure, over and over.

Truly, he was the devil.

* * *

"_Three _courtesans? At the sametime? How…_exhausting." _

They hid nothing from each other now. Besides, it'd been years since then. And at the time, they'd gone their separate ways. Some argument or another neither remembered anymore.

"_Carnivale,"_ he smirked, "One must celebrate, _si?"_

"You were such a _puttana_." He arched an amused brow. "Fine. I'm rather…_familiar_ with a few women," she shrugged, wicked smile deepening. "It's…different."

Eyes momentarily wide, his expression smoothly slid to unbridled desire.

"Perhaps we should arrange a detailed demonstration? I'll only watch, _piccola_-"

Laughing, he barely dodged the flying inkpot as it sailed past his head.

**Castità (Chastity)**

"You survived it twice before, Ezio-"

"Barely!"

"I need six weeks to heal-"

"_Cazzo! _But I need you _ora!" _he whined, fingers impatiently dancing along the small of her back.

The bundle in the bassinet next to their bed gurgled with laughter as he rolled his eyes in further protest.

"Even my own son mocks me," he smirked, sweeping the babe into his arms and pressing a quick kiss to his forehead.

"Because Giovanni's smarter than you, yet but a month old?"

"Oh, you'll pay for that," he purred.

"I'm looking forward to it," she chirped, "In _two weeks_."

* * *

"Not yet? It's been weeks-"

"The _testa di cazzo assassino _isn't the only one," she snapped, focusing on the crowds below.

"You never protested such with me," Ugo retorted, perched on the balustrade beside her.

"We grew up together, _porca puttana_."

Ages ago, they learned they worked far better as friends rather than lovers. Besides, he never looked back since Bianca. She was perfectly fine with that.

Suddenly, it became clear.

"Oh, you've got it _bad, amici_," he chuckled, instinctively ducking her vicious smack.

_"T'ta a facc', arruso!" _she growled.

Unfortunately, he was right. And she found it highly alarming.

* * *

**Translations**

_Si?_ – Yes?

_Puttana_ – Whore

_Piccola_ – Sweetheart

_Cazzo!_ – Similar exclamation to "Damn!" or "Damn it!" but…ruder.

_Ora!_ – Now!

_Testa di cazzo_ - Asshole

_Porca puttana_ – (you) dirty whore

_"T'ta a facc', arruso!" _- I'll strip your face, (you) ass!


	4. Rabbia e Pazienza

**Rabbia (Wrath)**

Deftly dragging her blade across the nearest guard's throat, his crimson essence exploded along her fingers.

The cobblestoned street erupted in a flurry of screams, panic, and chaos.

Beneath that, a violent stream of foul curses, her face alight with manic fury.

"_Che cosa state aspettando, stronzo? Muovi il culo!"_

Her _cinquedea_ ripping through another guard, they soon both disappeared into the fleeing crowd.

That night, as she burned her ruined, bloodied clothes before stepping into the steaming bath, he silently vowed to never cross her.

For she'd made swift, brutal work of the guards that dared to strike _him_.

* * *

He _never_ struck her.

Yet his rash of bruises trailed along her pale skin by the light of some mornings.

Returning home those nights, his robes were conspicuously slashed with grisly, liquid scarlet, their coppery scent unmistakable.

Coiled, repressed rage pulsed at his every touch. His hands and mouth demanding, primal in their ferocious insistence. He plied his carnal song from her, her discordant cries sliding around his guttural, snarled satisfaction.

As they lay together afterwards, she never asked how many he slaughtered. Their brutal repayment for his family's ruin years ago, prize enough.

Vengeance lessened. But it never died.

**Pazienza (Patience)**

"We go to Monteriggioni?"

"It's only until I return from Rome. You will be safe within its walls, among friends."

"You seek the Spaniard _stronzo?_"

"_Si." _

"_Cazzo!" _Closing her eyes momentarily, she let out a ragged sigh.

"Destroy _il bastardo_,"she finally breathed, lips crushing his in a searing kiss, "But you'd better return to me…ALIVE."

"_Naturalmente, tesorina." _The cocky grin graced his handsome, bearded face. Reassurance. For them both.

Pacing the villa floors by candlelight after his departure, she wrung her hands in her crimson skirts, praying their children would not find themselves fatherless.

Waiting always proved the hardest part.

* * *

"Beyond that door? Women's work, _amico mio_," Leonardo smirked, clapping a hand to his friend's shoulder, "There's nothing you can do."

Another scream tore from the bedroom, followed by a flurry of demonic curses. "_Dio mio!"_ Ezio winced.

"Sounds rather similar to your first meeting?" Antonio chuckled, shrugging off Ezio's murderous glare.

"It's been _hours_-"

Suddenly the door floor open, the maid wildly gesturing from within. He nearly leapt over her.

"A…girl," Rosa grinned, flushed with exhaustion.

"_La nostra bella piccola,"_ he whispered, delicately taking her in his arms.

For the second time in his life, he fell in love.

* * *

**Translations**

_Che cosa state aspettando, stronzo? Muovi il culo! _– What are you waiting for, f**ker? Move your ass!

_Cinquedea_ – A type of dagger Ezio can buy from blacksmiths, in-game. I figure if he can wield them, so can the thieves. They're usually about 10 to 28 inches long, though an average one is about 15 inches long.

_Stronzo_ – F**ker

_Il bastardo_ – The bastard

_Cazzo!_ – Similar exclamation to "Damn!" or "Damn it!" but _way _ruder.

_Naturalmente, tesorina_ – Naturally, (my) little treasure.

_Amico mio_ – My friend

_Dio Mio!_ – My God!

_La nostra bella piccola_ – Our beautiful sweetheart


	5. Invidia e Bontà

**Invidia (Envy)**

_Rosa is most dear to me. If I had lost her…_

A fleeting touch. A proud grin. The myriad of nicknames he reserved _only_ for her.

Antonio was never selfish in his paternal affection. That they did not share the same blood was inconsequential. For love was unconditional.

The rare times his mind drifted to his old life, he nearly despised her for it.

Then, he hated himself for daring to even think such.

He'd gladly bargain with the devil himself for but one more day with his father and brothers.

Templar _bastardi._

_Dio mio_, he ached for his family.

* * *

Never pledging themselves to each other, for years, she was perfectly content to wander in and out of his bed. Just as he was hers.

Until now.

In the midst of his meandering tale of his latest conquest, he ignored her heated gaze and snarled derision.

Her vicious slap across his cheek abruptly echoed in the night air. Gaze wide and stunned, he was rendered speechless.

She fled from the rooftops, chest tightening and eyes stinging with tears.

To deny it was absolute madness. Yet she refused to utter the words aloud.

_Ti amo._

Oh, how she loathed such weakness.

**Bontà (Kindness)**

There was no escaping the second week of May.

Stealing away to the rooftops every dusk, he vainly sought solace in his solitude.

Her suspicions rarely failed her. His third year in _Venezia, _she summoned the courage to ask.

"Today…your father and brothers-?"

For once, his expression sought no charming deception as his hazel eyes slowly blinked with unspent tears.

Anguish. Fury. _Guilt._

No need to fill the air with pitiful, empty words.

Silently pulling his head to her breast, her hands stroked his chilly skin, her comforting hum filling his ears.

Not all anniversaries were a time of celebration.

* * *

They waited in his studio for Ezio's return. Fingers itching for activity, Leonardo began sketching her.

A coiled ball of ravenous energy, she found the unfettered need to touch and brusquely question _everything_ in sight.

"What are those?" she ordered after some time, nimbly snatching parchments from his hands.

Swallowing down his disappointment, his face fell as she silently perused them. "'Tis not my best-"

"_Taci!" _she whispered, expression awed. "_Cazzo! _Ezio's right."

"W-what?"

"And you're supposed to be the genius…they're beautiful, _idiota!_"

"_Grazie_, _Madonna,_" he flushed. Smirking, she mockingly curtseyed before finally sitting still as he finished her portrait.

* * *

**Translations**

_Bastardi_ – Bastards

_Dio mio_ – My God, dear God

_Ti amo_ – I love you

_Taci!_ – Shut-up!

_Cazzo! – _F**k!

_Idiota! _– Idiot!

_Grazie_, _Madonna_ – Thank you. _Madonna_ is a sign of respect and compliment for a woman.


	6. Ghiottoneria e Moderazione

**Ghiottoneria** (**Gluttony)**

"_Merda! _Close the god-damn curtains, _testa di cazzo_!" she groaned, squinting and rolling over.

Stomach roiling, mouth dry and tasting of hell, the pounding at her temples grew exponentially as the afternoon sunlight washed over her.

"Rise and shine!" he smirked, ignoring her request. Sitting next to her on his bed, he gently shook her shoulder, attempting to get her up.

"I'm going to _kill_ you," she fiercely muttered, though she leaned into his touch.

"I warned you last night at the tavern, _bambolina_," he snickered, "No one can out-drink me!"

"_Vaffanculo!"_

She absolutely _hated_ that he was right.

* * *

His blade effortlessly sliding out of the archer's neck, the spray of blood no longer registered.

Neither did the man's desperate, wretched gurgle. Hand vainly clutching at his slashed throat, he crumpled, dead at his feet.

So came Death's whispered song.

Upon killing Uberto Alberti and escaping, despite his utter rage, he threw up all over his boots afterwards.

For days, there came the haunting nightmares and nightly cold sweats, his hands shaking and numb.

Now, blood consumed him. Its seductive cravings, an accursed siren's call.

Unfortunately, his increasingly frenzied appetite for such wanton destruction terrified him to the core.

**Moderazione** (**Temperance)**

"Father _better_ be home for my birthday!"

"Or what?" Rosa chuckled, running an affectionate hand through her daughter's dark, curling locks.

"Or…I don't know," she huffed, crossing her arms, "But I assure you, I'll think of _something_."

"You can't stamp and shout whenever you don't get your way, _bella_," she firmly reminded her.

Named for her aunt, ten year-old Claudia Girolama Auditore contained her father's hazel eyes and her mother's pale complexion.

She'd also inherited her namesake's rather fiery disposition.

"Fine," Claudia rolled her eyes, "I'll be nice."

"_Bene, tesorina," _Rosa grinned.

Sometimes, they were so alike, it was scary.

* * *

"That?" she pointed accusingly at his chin, "Is _ridicolo!"_

"What?" he scratched at his scruffy face, "My beard?"

"You look like a vagrant," she snorted.

"I prefer 'distinguished_,_' _amore._"

"Well, I happen to like that rather chiseled jaw of yours, _bello_."

Smirking, he reached down, running a hand over her burgeoning belly. "Fine," he said with exaggerated offense, "It shall be gone when I return from Monteriggioni."

"You've found more Codex pages?"

_"Si."_

Four months later, upon the birth of their third child and first boy, Giovanni Antonio Auditore, he came to her clean shaven. And as handsome as ever.

* * *

**Translations**

_Merda!_ – Shit!

_Testa di cazzo_ – Asshole

_Bambolina_ – Baby doll, baby (babe)

_Vaffanculo!_ – F**k off!

_Bene, tesorina_ – Good, my little treasure (darling)

_Ridicolo!_ – Ridiculous

_Amore _- (my) love

_Bella/Bello_ – Beautiful, pretty one (feminine/masculine)

_Si_ – Yes


	7. Orgoglio ed Umiltà

**Author's Note: **For the record, all of these drabbles take place in the same world as my other stories, _The Assassin's Thief_ and _The Wager. _Hence there are random references to those. In the meantime, well, here's the conclusion. And wow, it's a lot harder than I thought to shorten a story down to 100 words! Anyway, hope you enjoyed them.

**Orgoglio (Pride)**

He would've forsaken other women for her alone long ago. But her relentless insistence for freedom kept him at arm's length.

Even as they unapologetically engaged in more physical pursuits.

Yet as time passed, he yearned for what his parents had, despite how cruelly it was snatched away all those years ago.

Better to taste a bit of heaven before it all went to hell.

Squeezing the Auditore seal in his hand, he made his silent oath.

Tonight, on the roof of the Ducal Palace, he would propose.

How could she say no? He was an _Auditore_, for God's sake.

* * *

Paupers and nobles simply didn't mix, at least not permanently; after all, her courtesan mother never saw her father again following their pricey liaison.

Yet, here he stood beside her on the roof of the Ducal Palace, pressing the Auditore seal into her hand.

Her family was the Guild. Becoming some haughty, simpering broodmare in order to continue his precious line for the promise of tomorrow was sheer insanity.

She refused his gilded cage.

He silently slipped away. But her hand still clutched his seal. Even cursing his name, hot tears spilled down her flushed cheeks.

She'd lost him forever.

**Umiltà (Humility)**

For all of his swaggering, smirking bluster, the thundering realization that he couldn't live without her initially gripped him with paralyzing apprehension.

But to deny such would be to reject his very essence.

Then again, it took him years to admit it out loud.

Neither of them ever mentioned the first proposal. Its outcome so _utterly_ disastrous, the less said, the better.

A two-year absence from _Venezia_ and dozens of his letters from Rome finally convinced her he was absolutely serious.

The always reminisced about the second proposal. For without it, he could never lay claim to his _Signora Auditore_.

* * *

"_Cazzo!" _he snorted, "To bind oneself to such an oath-"

"I had all I desired…well, at least all I _thought _I did."

"But you swore _never _to marry!"

"To anyone but _you_, _si._"

"Why?" he murmured. He began absentmindedly winding a strand of her hair around his fingers from where he lay next to her.

Like his, it was now sprinkled through with varying streaks of gray.

"You have no equal, _mio bello_," she grinned, "And you consider the same of me in turn."

As he captured her mouth with his, she was rather thrilled she'd never broken her vow.

* * *

**Translations**

_Cazzo!_ – F**k!

_Si_ – Yes

_Mio bello_ – My beautiful, pretty one


End file.
